


How Cliche

by MaroonCamaro



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Draco, Drunk Sex, First Time, Harry has a big dick, I hate tagging, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Harry, lotion as lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 07:57:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8364169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaroonCamaro/pseuds/MaroonCamaro
Summary: Draco Malfoy visits the place of Professor Snape's death every May the 2nd. But this year, five years after the war, someone else is there.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my very first Drarry. Long time reader, first time writer. :) I think I've ticked off everything on the Drarry check list.
> 
> First they fight.  
> Draco calls Harry a Philistine.  
> Harry is hung like a hippogriff.  
> Draco is a size queen.
> 
> Beta'd by the always kind 1Lostone and Brit picked by the very quick Kittysaurus. (I'd link them, but AO3 has decided that I, in particular, cannot link. I've tried.) All errors are mine, as I went back to make changes. 
> 
> Also, this is a slightly late birthday gift for Noonesangel_noonesbitch!

Draco never went to the ministry functions. Not because he wasn’t invited, because that wouldn’t stop him. No he didn’t go because they were just so...pedestrian. With their tributes and moments of silence and the drinking. And then there would be desserts and dancing. 

How...utterly repulsive. 

No, on May the 2nd Draco would go to Hogwarts and tickle the Whomping Willow to make his way through a dirty tunnel to the Shrieking Shack. It was really quite harmless now that he knew there wasn’t anything there to harm him. Just dust and memories.

Not that Draco had been in there before  _ that  _ night, he wasn’t much of a rule breaker. More like a rule user. But it had been forbidden when he was in school, so he’d never gone. 

But now it was where he felt closest to his godfather. Sure, he could ask McGonagall if he could visit Snape’s portrait, but he really couldn’t bear the thought of her pity. She’d actually tried to hug him after he’d come back to get his things after the end of his seventh year. He still shudders to think of her awkwardly patting his arm instead. 

Draco was much later than he planned to be. Usually he got there early in the afternoon, sneaking in during the Hogwarts lunch hour, and gone within an hour or two - a flask of good bourbon for a toast and a small candle to burn his only offerings.

The moon was barely starting to show it’s pale face low on the horizon and the students and staff of Hogwarts were just sitting down to dinner when he got there. He’d had to take a practice UKCAT and it had thrown his whole day off. Even though Draco would be a healer in the magical world, they still expected him to take the UK’s medical exams. He only wished that he could tell a living breathing Severus about the upcoming test instead of an empty room.

Stepping carefully on the swaying steps, Draco made his way to the second floor of the run down building. There was a room with four stubbed candles in a pool of wax that showed evidence of his visits over the years. He wasn’t sure if that was where the dark lord had killed poor Snape, but it’s where Draco felt his godfather the most. It also had a not too uncomfortable bed that Draco had spelled clean and then dusted every year again when he came back. It was good for a kip on the odd year that uni wore him out.

The flicker of a candle against the wall brought him up short. He had a fleeting thought that the candle he had lit the year before was still burning, but he quickly dismissed that. He remembered quite clearly blowing it out. Who would be invading Snape’s sacred place?

Of course it would be Potter. 

Draco had done his very best to avoid his childhood rival since after...well, since after the dust had settled from the war. Potter of course had completely skipped out on his 7th year and gone straight into Auror training. Draco had sucked it up and gone back to finish his education. He still wanted to be a Healer after all.

Potter didn’t look very Auror-like at the moment, sitting on the floor with his back against the bed. He was dressed in muggle jeans and a black t-shirt that hid nothing, and had his own flask that he was steadily drinking from. Draco could see that instead of the shrine of burnt out white candles, now only one candle (that looked to be the spelled remains of the previous ones) burned brightly. 

Of course Potter would show no respect for the dead. 

“What are  _ you  _ doing here?” Draco couldn’t help the contempt in his voice.

Potter whipped his head around and stood up at the same time, a bit unsteadily, but managed the complicated maneuver. “Malfoy! I could ask the same of you.”

Draco snorted and stood up straighter, going right into Malfoy mode, nose up and eyes staring straight down it in arrogance, “It’s not really any of your business though, is it?” 

“I can make it my business,” Harry said as he narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, please. Don’t try and play Auror now when you are off your arse drunk and not even in uniform.” Draco said with a dismissive flick of his hand that took in all of Potter.

“Malfoy, I…”

“Look, Potter, I’m sure you are quite ready to start a duel right here, but I am tired and I just want to spend a few minutes alone. So, could you kindly shove off?”

“No I bloody well will not ‘shove off’. I come here every year to...well, I come every year.” Potter said angrily.

Draco did not believe that for one minute, “You most certainly do not come every year.  _ I  _ come every year. Who do you think put those candles there?”

Potter’s eyes flicked over to where the single candle still merrily burned.

“Well there should be four candles there. One for each year. And,” Draco reached into his robe and pulled the fifth candle from his pocket, “here is the one for this year.”

Crossing his arms Potter said, “I’ve never seen you here.”

Draco scoffed, “Oh, dear me. Something happened that the Saviour of the Wizarding world wasn’t aware of. What shall you do?”

“Shut it, Malfoy.”

The  _ Make me _ was on the tip of his tongue, but Draco was just too tired. He’d been up most of the night studying and all day testing and had been looking forward for the peace that he always felt here. And maybe he could take that kip on the bed as well. Severus wouldn’t mind. “Aren’t we a bit old for the dramatic showdown?” Draco asked instead.

“What?”

Draco sighed, “I’m tired. I want to spend a few minutes contemplating the sacrifice that dear old Professor Snape made for me, light a candle, have a drink, and then go home. So could you just bugger off?”

Potter took a long breath through his nose and said, “Why do you think I’m here?”

“As far as I can tell, it’s to ruin my night,” Draco said as he brushed past Potter to set the candle down where its mates should be. With a deft flick of his wand, Draco lit it.

Flopping back down on the floor in an ungainly heap, Potter replied, “I just want to think about how brilliant he was at saving our arses.”

Draco stayed watching the two candles burn, their flames mirror flickers of light. He took a sip from his flask before holding it aloft, “Rest well good sir.”

“Hear, hear,” Potter said quietly from his seat next to the bed.

They were silent for a long moment, contemplating the man whose death had insured their lives. Draco still had trouble believing that anyone would willingly defy the Dark Lord, especially for the shitty little sixteen year old that he had been. But Severus had done it, stiff upper lip and all that, just like a proper Brit. 

“If I had known before he died…” Potter said.

Draco shook his head and looked back at Potter, “If you had known, if  _ anyone _ had known, we’d all be dead now.”

Potter merely nodded his head and peered into his flask,”Damn.”

“Out, Potter?” Draco asked.

Potter’s eyes darted to Draco before giving a sheepish laugh, “Yeah, seems I didn’t figure I’d need more tonight due to the unforeseen circumstances.”

Draco wasn’t sure how he felt about being categorized as ‘unforeseen circumstances’, but seeing Potter here has certainly thrown him for a loop.

Remembering that he was tired and wanted to get through this night peacefully, Draco pulled out his Mother’s teachings on politeness and walked the few steps to Potter’s side and held out his own flask, “I’ve plenty.”

Potter hesitated for a moment, but then accepted and took a small sip. His eyes grew comically large as he drank down his sip. “What is that? That doesn’t taste like any firewhisky I’ve had before.”

“That’s because you are a philistine and don’t know good Kentucky Bourbon when you taste it, Potter,” Draco said as he settled himself on the floor next to his ex-rival. He’d rather the bed, but that could get awkward.

“Harry.”

“What?”

“If we’re going to be sharing a flask, the least we can do is use our first names. Call me Harry,” he said as he passed the whiskey back to Draco.

Draco took a swig and turned the name over in his mind a few times to test it out.  _ Harry _ ,  _ Harrrrry, Har rei, haRRy, harrY.  _ He could do this. If he could name all the muscles in a human body, then surely he could use the ones in his mouth to say it, “Harry.”

Harry gasped. Draco hadn’t meant for it to sound like it had. All whispery and almost reverent. He handed the flask back to  _ Harry _ and looked away.

“Thank you, Draco,” Harry said; the ‘Draco’ said as though it were a question. Draco acquiesced by nodding his head. It was only fair.

Harry said it again, more a whisper this time, “Draco.” 

Draco licked his lips and held out his hand for the flask. The spark that thrummed along from his fingers to heartline and burst into a full on fire in his chest was woefully unexpected. Potter- no,  _ Harry _ , must have felt it too because he gasped again and looked down at his hand in wonderment. It was most likely time to change the subject.

“He made an unbreakable vow with my mum, you know.” Draco said.

Harry looked toward the candle, “I know.”

“I guess that’s why he got there so quick after you…”

Harry nodded, “Yeah.”

Draco took another drink and handed the flask back to Harry. He thought of past regrets and mistakes and senseless duels in damp, abandoned bathrooms. And all the time wasted because he’d been nothing more than an immature little snob when they’d first met. The war had certainly taken care of the snobbery. 

“He was scared shitless of Remus’ werewolf, but stood between us and it that night we found out about Scabbers being Pettigrew.” Harry said before taking a drink and passing back the flask.

“Didn’t know that,” Draco said and took a drink. Pettigrew had been foul, Draco wasn’t sorry he was gone.

Harry snorted and took back the flask, “Not like he went around and shouted to the world about his bravery.”

“No, I don’t suppose he did.” Draco was starting to feel the buzz from the bourbon. Maybe he shouldn’t have charmed the flask to refill from the bottle at home. 

Harry held up the flask, “To the bravest man I ever knew.”

“Hear, hear.” 

“Not to be rude,” Harry said as he rubbed a hand along his jeans, “but I really didn’t expect to see you here. Being on the other side and all.” 

“He was my godfather.” Draco simply said.

Harry snorted, “I’ve seen the Black family tree. They tend to burn out anyone that didn’t conform.”

“That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t honour the man that sacrificed his soul for me.” Draco said with an edge to his voice. Potter couldn’t even imagine how the inner workings of a purebred family were conducted. Although, he would admit the Blacks and the Malfoys probably took it to an extreme. “Besides, he wasn’t a Black.”

Harry shook his head, candlelight flickering off his glasses, “What I meant was, I didn’t think that anyone would…”

Draco’s nose flared with anger, “I just told you, he sacrificed his soul for me. It has nothing to do with being a pureblood or if he followed you-know-who. I like to pay my respects in the room that he died in.”

Harry got to his feet and glared down at Draco, “I’m just surprised you’d care enough to hang out in an abandoned shack. And he died downstairs.”

Draco got to his feet too, standing only a handspan away, “Wherever then! What kind of heartless bastard are you? Of course I care. Why do  _ you  _ care? You hated him. You and your little friends made his life miserable.”

“If I had known…”

Draco cut him off with a sneer, “Oh please, Potter. You would never have believed him. And before you go on again about how he sacrificed his life for you, he did it for your  _ mother _ , not  _ you _ .”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, “I know he did it for my mother, but the fact remains, he died protecting me.”

“And doesn’t that make you so tragic.” Draco didn’t care to play this game of who Snape cared more about. They were a little old for one upmanship, and Snape would call them both dunderheads for even having the conversation.  

“Malfoy, this isn’t…”

“Oh, please do shut up. It never ceases to amaze me how you can manage to make things about you. He did what he did for the greater good. You just happened to have been the representation…”

Draco didn’t get to finish his thought because Harry’s hand was now covering his mouth. He tried to step back to break the hold, but Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him close. There was a brief struggle, where Draco unsuccessfully tried to break both holds, and then Draco found himself lying on the bed with Harry on top of him.

He continued to struggle, but the years sitting behind a desk instead of exercising and studying instead of eating did not help against a person who obviously worked out and was a trained Auror. Harry had pinned Draco’s arm to the bed and still had his other hand over Draco’s mouth, so he couldn't even fight back with a biting comment. He finally gave up and just glared instead.

They stared at each other for a long moment, Draco couldn’t puzzle out Harry’s expression. Why wasn’t Potter getting up? Draco really wished that he would, it was becoming unsettling with Harry’s warm body pressed to Draco from chest to knee. They were so close their breath mingled. It was...disconcerting. 

“Your mouth,” Harry finally said as he looked down at where his hand covered it, “Your  _ mouth _ . It drives me batty. Most of the time I just want it to shut up. But sometimes..,” he pulled the palm of his hand away from Draco’s mouth and let his thumb drag across Draco’s bottom lip.

It was an involuntary reaction, to slip his tongue out to lick his lips after Harry had let go. He didn’t intend to swipe Harry’s thumb too. Didn’t realize that it would make them both shudder with something Draco had hidden in the back of his mind for too many years.

Harry let out a long trembling breath as he stared at Draco’s mouth, his thumb still marking its shape. Draco was frozen there on the bed with Harry sodding  _ Potte _ r lying on top of him. This was certainly not how he had expected this night to go. It was the bourbon, it had to be the bourbon. There was no way that they would be in this situation without it. 

Draco wasn’t sure he even minded it.

Draco closed his eyes and shifted his body. There, just there, he could feel it, Harry was aroused, the stiffness of his cock, the shortness of his breath, all dead giveaways that Harry was enjoying this. He felt Harry lean in close, thought he would feel lips on his own, but Harry let his head sink to that spot where Draco’s neck and shoulder met. 

“Tell me to stop,” Harry breathed into Draco’s neck. “Tell me this is wrong.”

The blanket was rough against Draco’s skin, the room too dim for him to see the dust that he knew was there. The building still shifted around them at odd angles. But Draco wasn’t thinking about any of that because Harry’s mouth was just a breath away from Draco’s skin. Not kissing, no. Harry’s thumb had stopped outlining Draco’s mouth as well. Draco weighed his options. They could chalk it up to the bourbon and high emotions. Forget that their touch had gone from anger to intimacy. Hell, they could probably wipe the whole thing from their memory with a good Obliviate and it would be as if it never happened.

But Harry smelled like bourbon and fresh air and clean soap and just a hint of sweat. And he felt like heaven. 

“Don’t,” Draco answered.

Harry moved to pull away, but Draco hooked a leg over Harry’s and held him in place. “Don’t stop.”

Groaning, Harry finally,  _ finally _ , put his mouth on Draco’s neck. And, yes, it was as good as Draco had imagined back in fourth year when he was alone in his bed with the curtains drawn. Better even. 

Draco’s hand that had been clutching Harry’s shirt drifted up and held Harry’s head. He was disinclined to let Harry stop kissing and, oh dear Merlin, sucking his neck. The sparks of pleasure shooting from Draco’s neck to all over his body, down to his feet, his fingertips, his mouth. His prick.

“You make me crazy.” Harry whispered in Draco’s ear. “Coming in here looking bloody brilliant and your mouth still so damn...Malfoyish.”

Draco wasn’t so sure he could live up to being Malfoyish at the moment. Not with Harry’s breath in his ear and Harry’s body covering his. And not with the way that he was currently rutting up into Harry’s body. All he could manage was an embarrassingly needy, “Don’t  _ stop _ .”

He still had his eyes closed, deep in a dreamland of candlelight and Harry Potter snogging him. His leg still hooked around Harry, holding him in place. Draco didn’t want there to be any confusion on Harry’s part that Draco didn’t want this. Because he did, oh, did he want it.

Draco wasn’t sure how much longer he could go without feeling those wonderful lips on his own. So he gently pulled on that dark mess of hair until Harry lifted his head. Before he could even form a question, Draco pulled him back down until their lips met in a searing, hot kiss. 

Harry moaned and Draco was lost in a torrent of sensation. The weight of Harry, the smell of him, the taste of him (bourbon mixed with desire), it was an overload. It was perfect.

Now that they were sharing a kiss, Draco didn’t want to be so passive. He kissed Harry with as much passion as he could muster. He let his hand (Harry was still holding down the other one, which was  _ fine _ because that was hot) travel down Harry’s back to his bum and back up again. Each time rucking up Harry’s shirt a bit more until it was wedged under his armpits. 

Harry suddenly pushed himself up so that he was on his knees above Draco, the bed creaking at the sudden shift of weight. Any concern that Harry was backing out was quashed when he yanked his t-shirt off, dislodging his glasses, and tossing them both off into the dimness of the room. Draco’s eyes drank in the finely developed muscles and flat planes that Harry must spend hours working on.

Draco took the hint and started on the buttons of his shirt; skin on skin contact was definitely called for at the moment. Harry’s eyes glittered as he watched Draco unbutton his shirt. Draco couldn’t tear his eyes away from Harry’s lightly furred chest and stomach. Yes, he really, really wanted to feel that on his skin.

He didn’t even bother to try and pull his shirt off, just laid it open and pulled Harry back into his arms. It was incredible. Draco’s body felt on fire where they touched. He didn’t want to lose this feeling, but he knew that with just a bit more effort it would feel even more extraordinary.

His hands travelled all over Harry’s back and occasionally down to the top edge of Harry’s jeans. Harry was gently rocking against Draco’s inner thigh. It wasn’t enough, Draco wanted more. He grabbed Harry’s ass hard and held it down so that he could grind up into Harry’s cock with his own. 

“Draco…” Harry seemed to relish the name rolling off his tongue. Letting the O peter out in a sigh. Draco had never loved the sound of his own name more.

“Don’t stop,” was all Draco could manage. The words stuck on his tongue in a refusal to let anything else past his lips. He would have liked to say Harry’s name or even an occasional ‘yes’, but they always came out as, “Don’t stop.”

“Won’t,” Harry whispered in Draco’s ear.

Draco fought with his loafers a bit, but finally managed to get them off. His socks could stay. Now he just needed to figure out how to get his trousers and pants off without Harry stopping what he was doing, which was kissing and nipping Draco’s mouth for a bit and then working his way around Draco’s jaw and neck before working his way back up again. It was brilliant. 

Harry must have figured out Draco’s dilemma because he suddenly shot backwards off the bed, hooking Draco’s slacks on the way and taking them with him in a flash of strength and finesse that took Draco’s breath away. 

Harry’s grin gleamed in the shadowy room, “Learned that in Auror training.”

Draco narrowed his eyes in confusion, “Why would you need….oh, nevermind. I don’t care. Can you take yours off the same way?”

“Possibly, but my trainers might slow things up a bit.”

Draco was proud of himself for not rolling his eyes. Although a pissed off Harry Potter had gotten them to this point, he was arsed if he was going to bollocks it up by pissing him off again now that they were both willing and in the mood. Instead he just shook his head and slipped off his pants. 

Harry looked up from where he’d worked off his trainers and his eyes immediately zeroed in on Draco’s cock. He looked astonished for a moment and then licked his lips and said, “It’s pink.”

And really, what kind of bloke wants to hear that his prick is  _ pink _ ? “Is not! The lighting in here is terrible. It’s a perfectly fine shade of…” he was not going to say ‘flesh’, “cream.”

Harry snorted, “More like strawberries and cream.”

He was about to say something about not comparing his skin colour to food when Harry finally shucked his jeans and pants all in one go. Draco’s mouth had gone dry instead, the beautiful swirls of hair pulling his eyes down to where it nestled behind Harry’s very nice, very hard, very sizeable cock. Harry could call Draco a fruit salad for all he cared, as long as there was a possibility of Draco getting that thing up his arse.

“I know I’m a bit..hairy..but you don’t have to stare so,” Harry said, a challenge in his voice.

Draco somehow managed to drag his eyes away from Harry’s beautiful prick and locked eyes with the man he hoped to fuck in the next five seconds. “Don’t be a tosser, you’re fucking fit and I want you to shag me until I forget my name.”

A wicked smile formed on Harry’s face before he launched himself at Draco, pushing him to the top of the bed until their heads were pushed up against the headboard and picking up where he’d left off kissing Draco. It was even more brilliant now that they were both touching skin to skin from lips to ankles. 

Harry worked his hand between them and stroked Draco’s cock, making Draco hiss through his teeth and toss his head back. Harry’s hand was hot and firm as it stroked Draco, so much better than the wank fantasies he’d had about this moment. 

“Don’t stop.” Draco cried desperately.

He felt Harry smile against his neck, “Back to that again, are we? Thought you wanted me to fuck you?”

“Yes! Don’t tease me Potter, I want you. Now.”

A shudder passed through Harry’s body, “If you only knew how many times I thought about you saying that to me.”

Draco took advantage of that bit of information to completely ensnare Harry. He lifted his head and looked Harry in the eye, “Do it. Fuck me. Make me come.”

“Yes,” Harry moaned.

Draco spread his legs, letting Harry fall into the place in between. Harry moaned low in his throat again as their cocks dragged against each other. 

Harry pushed up onto his hands and knees, his cock just brushing Draco’s entrance. He closed his eyes and pushed forward.

“Stop!” Draco cried out.

Harry jumped in shock and stared at Draco, “What? Change your mind?”

“No you wanker! I need some preparation first!”

Harry licked his lips and cocked his head, “Preparation?”

Draco rolled his eyes, really he couldn’t help himself this time. “Don’t tell me you’ve never shagged anyone, Potter.”

Harry looked affronted, “Of course I have.”

“How many were men?” Draco asked.

Licking his lips again, Harry said, “Well, er. None, actually.”

Draco sighed, it would be worth it he knew, but this was almost his breaking point. He didn’t feel like being Harry’s gay guru but he damn sure wanted that cock up his arse. “Men need prep. We have to work it open first and use lubricant.”

Harry’s shocked expression hadn’t changed.

“I swear to you it feels fantastic once you get going, but it takes a little bit of work. Now, do you have anything we could use for lube?” It was a long shot really. Harry hadn’t even known about prep, why would he have any lube?

Harry’s cheeks darkened, “Ah no. But sometimes when I..umm..wank..I use spit.”

Draco shuddered, “No, thank you. I have some lotion in my trouser pocket, we can use that.”

“Of course you do,” Harry said with his own eye roll.

“I’ll have you know I wash my hands at least fifty times a day and a bit of lotion keeps them from cracking and creating more places for bacteria to enter my body,” Draco said with a sniff.

Harry nodded his head slowly, as if not really understanding, but he did slither off the bed and rummage in Draco’s trousers. He seemed surprised to find a muggle squeeze bottle instead of a potion’s phial.

“It’s easier to use than a potion,” Draco said defensively. 

Harry held his hands up in mock surrender, “I won’t argue that.” He crawled back up onto the bed and arranged himself back between Draco’s thighs, “Now, show me what to do.”

Draco  _ did not _ blush. Harry was just incredibly warm and it was causing Draco’s own temperature to go up. He held out his hand for the lotion, but Harry pulled back.

“I learn better by doing,” he said.

Draco swallowed hard before answering, “Right then. Depending on how often your partner partakes in anal sex, you may have to do a lot, or hardly any, prep.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow at Draco’s lecturing tone, but it was the only way Draco would get through this without dying of embarrassment.

“I haven’t for a bit, and you’re ...er...above average, so I’m going to need a little more. The good news is that this can also feel brilliant.”

Harry nodded his head, not even acknowledging the sly compliment. 

“Right,” Draco was having quite the issue with repeating words tonight. As much time as he’d spent at Uni you’d think he’d have a better vocabulary. “So, get a bit of lotion on your fingers.”

“Won’t it burn?” Harry asked as he squeezed out.

Draco shook his head, “This particular lotion has no alcohol, so it shouldn’t. But, I’m not really averse to a little pain, I like a little spicy with my sweet.”

Harry’s hand shook a bit, dripping some of the lotion off and onto the bed. “That’s...that’s good to know,” he said in a shaky voice.

Draco shook his head again, Potter may claim to be sexually active, but he acted as pure as the driven snow. “I’m not going to break. I quite lik...ohhhhhhhh……..”

Harry had finally put his lotioned finger in the spot they’d been discussing for the last five minutes, and Draco was going to have to reevaluate his thoughts on Potter’s purity, because he seemed to know exactly how to swirl his finger around Draco’s pucker. Well enough that Draco hitched a breath and spread his legs wider and canted his hips up so Potter could have better access.

“Is this right?” Harry asked.

It took Draco longer than usual to answer, his mind lost in a haze of  _ good, good, gooood _ , and  _ it’s going to be even better when he stops fucking about _ , “Very.”

Draco closed his eyes and narrowed all of his senses to the spot where Harry’s finger was touching him. He was so lost in the sensation that he didn’t even notice Harry shift on the bed and leaned down and nip at Draco’s neck. He hissed in approval, so Harry worked his way up along Draco’s jaw line until they were kissing again. All the while, Harry worked at slathering lotion on Draco and working a finger inside him. 

“More,” Draco whispered between kisses.

Harry didn’t hesitate, plunging two fingers in at the same time he bit at Draco’s bottom lip. Draco yelped, but held Harry close with an arm around his neck. Just having a sensation other than exhaustion and mental fatigue was bliss and reminded Draco he was alive.

Alive and about to have hot sex with Harry bloody Potter. “More,” he whispered again.  

“Need more lotion first,” Harry replied as he raised himself off Draco.

Draco did  _ not  _ whimper when Harry pulled away. The bed creaked, he was certain. It was an old bed after all. 

“You look like a wank fantasy come to life,” Harry said.

“Are all your fantasies hazy and out of focus then?” Draco asked with cheek. 

Harry snorted, “Just the ones with you in them. Maybe because I’m trying to pretend it’s not you. But it always is.”

Draco gave Harry a smug smile and spread his legs farther apart, “Won’t be a fantasy much longer.”

Groaning, Harry got back to his task and worked Draco’s hole open with copious amounts of lotion and enthusiastic thrusting with his fingers. There wasn’t much finesse, but that wasn’t what Draco was after anyway. He wanted to feel the burn and sting of Harry penetrating him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been shagged senseless. 

“Come on, Potter, fuck me already,” Draco groaned. 

He ignored the squelch of Harry’s fingers leaving his hole. Sex wasn’t always romantic kisses and soft sighs, sometimes it was awkward and rough. And that’s what Draco wanted tonight. Or maybe that’s what the bourbon wanted, but that’s what was happening, and he was loving it.

“Yeah okay, just let me get a condom.”

“Potter…”

“I don’t care about magical protection, I have a condom and I trust it and I’m going to use it or we stop here,” Harry said in a no nonsense voice.

“Right, excellent idea.” Draco wasn’t going to miss out on a cock the size of Potter’s quibbling over magical versus muggle protection. So instead, he stroked his cock and kept his opinion to himself. He did wonder where Potter managed to find a prophylactic large enough to cover that hippogriff cock he had.

Harry looked at Draco when he was done, the barely there light from the candle casting his face in shadow but making his eyes gleam, “Are you ready?”

“Very.”

Harry smirked and pushed Draco’s legs up and out so that he could have better access. He hesitated for a moment, looking up Draco’s body in a long sweep before looking back to his task. He took himself in hand and got in position.

Draco was expecting a tentative stab, maybe even a couple. And then a short thrust followed by more short thrusts until Potter finally got himself all the way in. But the Golden Boy of Gryffindor never did anything as expected. 

It was a slow, continuous push that didn’t stop. Not even when Harry got the head of his prick just past the first ring of muscles. It burned. Merlin, did it burn. Draco hissed between his teeth, but he didn’t tell Potter to stop. It was ever so much better than he’d ever hoped.

“Do you need more lotion?” Harry asked when he’d reached the bottom. 

Draco wanted to say no, wanted to feel the sting. But he knew that there was a good chance the condom would break, and if it did, then he was pretty sure that Potter would call a halt. “Yeah, maybe a bit.”

Harry pulled back with the same intensity that he had pushed in. Slow and unforgivingly steady. Heavenly.

The lotion was cold against Draco’s backside after the burn of Harry’s cock, but it was so, so good. A wonderful contrast of sensations. Potter was a natural.

“Ready?” Potter asked again. Really, he was starting to be quite infuriating. Draco wasn’t sure how else who could telegraph he was ready. He was lying under Potter, legs spread wide, hole stretched, lotioned up, and panting for it. He was the very definition of ready.

“For the love of Merlin, Potter. If you don’t fuck me right now...:”

The stupid ponce actually laughed at Draco. He was about to get a piece of Draco’s mind (just a wee one, Draco still really, really wanted that cock up his arse), when he got with the program and pushed his cock in Draco again. It was slow and unrelenting, just like before. 

It was good. So good. Harry soon found a rhythm that drove Draco mad, the whole shack seemed to rock along in time to Harry’s thrusts. The burn finally settled down until all Draco felt was a pleasant fullness and spikes of bliss as Harry rocked into him. Draco was on the edge. 

He needed more. Every once in a while, Harry would just touch Draco’s prostate. Enough to remind Draco that it was there and that more pleasure could be had if Harry just realized it. 

“More!” Draco begged as he hooked his hands behind his knees to pull himself open further. 

Harry obliged and pushed deeper and took longer strokes, sweat forming on his brow and wetting his hair, but he still wasn’t getting to where Draco needed him. It was good, there was no denying it. The drag and stretch would have been enough if Draco didn’t know what Harry could do if he could just get it right. The angle was off. Perhaps Potter didn’t know about it. 

“Stop.”

Draco could have laughed at the comical expression on Potter’s face and the way he actually stopped mid-stroke.

“Am I hurting you?” Harry asked.

“No. Well, yes. In as much as it criminal you haven’t hit my prostate yet.” Draco said as he pushed at Harry’s shoulder. “Roll over.”

“What?”

“Roll over. I want to ride you,” Draco huffed out.

“Oh. Right, then.” Harry said as he obliged.

Draco searched around on the bed until he found the lotion. He poured a generous amount in his hand and let it warm a bit before putting it on Harry’s straining prick. 

“Ready, Potter?”

Harry cocked his head to the side at the question, but nodded his head.

It took Draco a minute, Harry hadn’t shrunk any in the time that they’d switched positions. A few failed attempts, a muttered curse, and then he was sliding down that magnificent cock. And once he’d gotten a few inches in, he knew the angle was right.

Harry put his hands on Draco’s thighs and tried to slow everything down, but Draco wasn’t having it. Every time Harry’s cock ran across Draco’s prostate, a sharp wave of pleasure radiated out from that tiny spot and traveled to every part of his body, from his toes to the top of his head. He just needed to stroke himself in the same rhythm and it was exquisite. 

“Dracoooo….” Harry moaned out. “You’re going to make me come!”

“That’s the point, Potter.” Draco said as he curled his other hand in Harry’s chest hairs. They were magnificent, wiry, yet soft. Enough to mark Harry as a man, but not enough to put Draco off.   

It was so good. The world outside of the bed was gone. It was just the two of them there, gasping and panting and sweating and striving toward completion. The headboard thumping against the wall and the bed creaking in time to their movements. 

Harry got there first, crying out Draco’s name and pushing up so hard he nearly unseated Draco. But Draco wasn’t going to let a little thing like his partner’s finish stop him from getting to his own orgasm. 

Not that it took long. Harry calling out Draco’s name was quite the aphrodisiac. Just a handful of strokes later and Draco was shooting all over that beautiful chest hair. He kept his eyes open so he could sear the memory in his mind.

He stayed where he was, catching his breath, for as long as it took for him to feel Harry softening inside him. Draco rolled off and laid there beside Harry. The two of them basking in the afterglow.

Harry was the first to speak. “Ginny and I are getting married in September.”

Draco wasn’t surprised. The Prophet had been speculating for over a year when the two would finally take the plunge. But Ginny’s quidditch career was going well, so no one really thought she would give it up. But Potter was a progressive sort of wizard, so he probably wouldn’t expect her to quit until she was ready. 

“I gave Astoria my great aunt’s engagement ring last weekend. The announcement should be in the papers later this week. I’m just waiting for her and Mum to tell me the date.” He confessed.

Harry rubbed his head and face vigorously before saying, “Right. Well, I’m not sure Ginny would believe me, and if she did she’d probably laugh her tits off.”

Draco swallowed. He’d truly forgotten all about Astoria. “I don’t know that I need to tell Astoria. She is from a pure blood family...no! Wait, let me finish. It’s not about blood purity so much as it’s about what is expected. I’m sure she would turn a blind eye to any extravagances I might have. Not that I plan on having any. I hadn’t even thought about this one.” 

There was a long moment of silence as the two of them lay there, their breaths evening out and the sweat cooling on their skins. After a while Harry muttered a quiet, wandless cleaning spell.

“Right, then. I best be going,” Harry said as he sat up on the bed. 

A little piece of Draco’s heart broke loose then. It was just a shag, nothing more. But. It was Harry bloody  _ Potter _ . “So, your fiance wouldn’t believe you and mine wouldn’t care.” 

Harry didn’t answer, just put on his muggle jeans and black t-shirt. Draco blew out a long breath and sat up and put his own clothes back on. Maybe it was good as a one off. Now they knew what it would be like. No more speculating. It was out of their system.

Harry was headed for the rickety stairway, but paused. Without looking back, he said, “See you next year?”

Draco gathered his Slytherin pride around himself like a cloak and said, “I’ll be here.” His Slytherin cloak seemed to be in tatters at the moment. 

***

Minerva McGonagall waved the last student in the hall off to their dorm. It had been a long day. Five years since the bloody end to the war and the Ministry wouldn’t be swayed from making it into a celebration. Not even bothered that the hero of the war would have nothing to do with it. Even the Weasley clan had forgone this year’s remembrance. It might have been because last year the Ministry decided to dramatize poor Fred Weasley’s death. Inexcusable.

She could hear Albus’ and Severus’ paintings arguing before she opened the door. Severus obviously hated the date and Albus loved to torment him by telling him what a hero he was. They both stopped abruptly when McGonagall entered the room.

“Well, do I want to know?” she asked the pair.

“No,” said Severus.

“Yes!” shouted Albus.

Putting her hands on her hips she gave them both a meaningful glare.

Severus turned his back and said over his shoulder, “I’m not telling her.”

Dumbledore laughed and slapped his knee, “But it’s wonderful news my boy!”

“Only you would see it that way.”

“As much as I love to hear the two of you banter, I do have a school to run,” McGonagall said and pursed her lips, her eyes darting between the two.

“My dear Minerva, it seems that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy have come to an understanding and, I dare say, have left their childish rivalry behind them.” Dumbledore said with a gleam in his eye.

“Oh? And how did that happen? And how did you know about it?” she asked.

Snape huffed, “You do know they both visit the Shrieking Shack on this day. This was the first time their visits coincided.”

McGonagall smiled, “Oh, good. They’ve talked then?”

Dumbledore burst out laughing so hard his frame shook. 

Snape sneered at him over his shoulder. “Yes, they  _ talked _ . And I don’t foresee any further hostilities. Are you quite through, Abus?”

Dumbledore dabbed at his eyes with a pink and red handkerchief, “Yes, yes. I do believe the two of them will get along swimmingly now.”

“Wonderful!” McGonagall said as she finally took her seat, “Maybe they can come and talk to their old houses and give a lecture on how they did it. What?”

But she got no more out of the two portraits on the subject. When she looked up, staring at the portraits over the rims of her glasses, Snape had given up on Dumbledore (who was now a beautiful shade of scarlet from laughter) and left his portrait for parts unknown.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! I have a much longer fic in mind that will take a while to write, but if this does well, I will write it for ya'll. Just know, I only post when I am finished with a fic, so it might be a while.


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